You meant it for evil - 17 by Maeryn Lamonte It was raining now. I had the windscreen wipers on, but it was hard to tell if my blurred vision was caused by raindrops on glass or the tears which continued to flow. Suddenly there were lights ahead of me. Red lights and the tall yellow shape of a lorry, too close. I jammed on my brakes. An ugly laughter drifted across my awareness and one last phrase. “You're mine.”

-oOo-
The low bonnet of the roadster disappeared under the back of the lorry. I felt the ABS rattling against the bottom of my trainer. Any second the trailer would come through the windscreen. This was going to be messy, but at least it would be quick. An unnatural calm settled over me and seconds seemed to stretch out. My last thought was of Mike and how painful it would be for him to identify me from my bloody remains.

The car lurched and swerved. Somehow the tyres found brief purchase on a dry patch of road, enough to jerk the car out from underneath the instrument of my impending demise and swing it over onto the hard shoulder. The nearside wheels dropped off the tarmac and lost purchase again sending the car into a wild spin. There was a loud bang and my face and chest were struck by stiff white plastic. For a brief moment I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, as the car went careening out of control and as quick as it had begun it was over. I sat dumbfound, my little yellow car sitting by the side of the road, facing the receding lights of the lorry, its driver oblivious to our close encounter.

The remains of the air-bag sat in my lap. The rush of adrenaline subsided and I surrendered to huge sobs of relief. My face and breasts stung, but nothing could diminish the glorious taste of fresh the air as I drew in lungful after grateful lungful. It looked like I would be staying with Glen and Lisa this evening after all. A hysterical giggle bubbled up inside me and I sat laughing at the sheer wonder of being alive.

The turbulent swirl of emotions subsided leaving me feeling a little nauseous. The car was leaning at an awkward angle, its hazard lights flashing their amber alert to an empty road. I reclaimed my handbag and mobile phone from the passenger's side foot well and climbed out to relative safety away from my vehicle and the road. I dialled the number of the recovery service I used. Yes I did know that it would cost me to use a mobile phone even though it was an oh eight hundred number; just a little bit more for having to listen to that redundant bit of information thank-you very much. I gave my details, location, what had happened. Yes I was a woman travelling on my own. So grateful for that consideration, to be bumped to the top of the response list. Next I phoned Glen.

“Hi bro', I wonder if you could come and pick me up. Slight accident. No I'm fine. Spun out but the car's in a ditch and the airbag went off so I'm not going to be driving it again tonight.”

Again I gave him my location. Ok now bets as to which of them would make it to me first. At a guess Glen lived about ten or fifteen minutes from here so, add the time it would take him to put his shoes on. It would be close.

I checked my watch. Half eight. Right in the middle of Mike's busy period so not a great time to call, but then I'd rather he heard from me than Glen or Lisa. I started punching in a text.

Hi Mike,

Had an accident but am ok. Car spun out so shaken and a little stirred. Glen coming to get me, will call later.

Luv

Liz.

Ok so I don't do text language, is that so bad?

I settled down to wait, glad of the jeans and leather jacket to ward off the cold. I hugged my arms in front of me then changed my mind as my bruised chest made its complaint. In the end Glen won the race, appearing five minutes ahead of the rescue service. By then the bruises had started to show and he insisted that I go to A&E to get checked out. From my description of the accident the recovery guys had sent one of their larger trucks. The driver agreed with Glen that I should have my injuries checked out, minor as I insisted they were, and I in my turn insisted that we sort the car out first. I think there must be something about a cute girl with panda eyes and a pout because they didn't try very hard to argue, and in the end Glen led the way to his local garage where my car was left amongst the others outside the front.

A&E was insane as tends to be the case on Saturday evenings, or so I'm told. Because I came under the heading 'RTA query concussion', I was seen quite quickly. The young doctor shone a light in my eyes, asked a few questions then had a quick look at the bruises on my face and chest, eventually scribbling a few notes on my chart.

“Well Miss Raeburn, no signs of concussion but you will have some rather spectacular bruises for a few days. The best thing you can do is take a couple of paracetamol and get some rest. Not much we can do about the bruising. That will come and go in its own good time, but you may be able to help it along a little with some multi-vitamins.”

He gave me a cheerful if harried grin and dashed off looking for his next patient. I settled my sweater back in place and made my way gingerly back to the reception and my stoically patient brother.

“And?”

“Paracetamols and an early night. Do you mind if I stay over with you and Lisa?”

“You know you don't need to ask. I suspect Lisa's already made up the spare room. Come on let's get you home.”

-oOo-
Glen phoned ahead as we made our way back to his car, so there were mugs of hot chocolate waiting when we arrived. I managed to stay reasonably alert for the time it took me to drink mine down then allowed myself to be led up to the spare room. As Glen had predicted it was all ready for me with one of Lisa's spare nighties lying across the bed. She tends to favour sort of floaty, chiffony, nylony things and I found myself appreciating her taste as the delicate fabric settled gently on my bruised body. There was a new toothbrush as well which, in my increasingly woozy state, became something of a challenge to open. I made it though and with minty breath and the fairy caress of my borrowed nightclothes I snuggled into bed just as my mobile went off.

“Liz? Are you alright? What happened? I'm sorry, we've been rushed off our feet and I only just got round to checking my phone.”

“Hi Mike, I'm fine. I'm staying with Glen and Lisa for the night, and they've agreed to run me home tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to come up? Things are easing off here and James and Sandy should be able to handle the last few orders. I could be with you in a couple of hours.”

“I'll be asleep Mike. It's really sweet of you, but I'll be home soon enough tomorrow morning and I'll tell you about it then. I just hope you don't get too much grief about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The airbag gave me quite a whack. I've a couple of fairly impressive shiners, so expect a few wife — or fiancée — beating gags.”

“But you're alright apart from that? You're sure?”

The concern in his voice was oil on troubled waters. All the things I'd been thinking and feeling, that had been tearing me up inside found peace in his words. I sniffed away a rogue tear.

“Glen took me to accident and emergency. No concussion, just bruises. My poor car's going to need a good going over though. Suspension, chassis, breaks, tyres, and I'll have to pay for a new airbag to be put in.”

“Don't worry about the car, we can get you a new one if need be. What matters is you. Are you sure you don't want me to come up?”

“The doctor recommended rest and if I weren't talking to my most favouritest man in the whole wide world I'd be asleep already.”

“Oh, I'd better let you go then.”

“Mike?”

“Mmn?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too Liz. God I feel so useless.”

“Well don't, just hearing your voice has done me wonders.”

“Goodnight then. Dream of me.”

“It'll be the best dream ever. I'll see you tomorrow and don't worry.”

The conversation dragged on for another minute or so, but it was saccharine sweet and enough to give you diabetes just listening to it so I'll spare you the details. I put the phone on the night stand and was asleep a moment later.

-oOo-
I awoke to one of those delightful drowsy feelings that lasts forever as long as you don't move. The bed was soft and the duvet warm and piled high over me. I snuggled deeper into the pillows, the only move permissible under such circumstances, and the ache in my chest awoke.

Grumbling gently under my breath, I opened my eyes to find Mike and his quirky smile looking down at me.

“What are you doing here? I told you Glen and Lisa would bring me back today.”

“I couldn't sleep. And I figured you could do with a change of clothing, so I went over to your place, chucked a few things into a suitcase and came over.”

I roused enough to push the duvet away. My face joined in with the aching.

“What time is it?”

The door opened and Lisa came in with a breakfast tray and an altogether too bright disposition.

“It's nine o'clock, but don't let that fool you. He's been here since eight.”

“But it's a two hour drive from your place; longer from mine.”

“Like I said, I couldn't sleep. I had to see you, and believe me it was worth the trouble.”

There was a hand mirror by the bed. He held it for me to look at myself.

“I look like a raccoon.”

The bruising had set in deep and dark around my eyes, giving me a burglar's mask. My nose and close surroundings were also discoloured, although not to such a great extent.

“I hope you packed my makeup. I think I'm going to go through a month's worth of foundation to hide this lot.”

Mike held up my small case of cosmetics then, after a dramatic pause, a pair of sunglasses.

Lisa offered the tray to me and I sat up gingerly in the bed to accept it. I winced at a twinge from under my borrowed nightdress and took a moment to look down my décolletage to inspect the rest of the damage.

“That is a most amazing mix of colours.”

Mike leaned forward, curiosity momentarily trumping good manners until I gave him a mock scowl and he withdrew looking so contrite Lisa and I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

“I'm a mean cow aren't I? After you came all this way too. It's just that I want you to see them at their best when you do see them for the first time.”

The tray settled on my lap and I was suddenly so ravenous that I started on the toast without spreading anything on it. Mike buttered and jammed a second slice for me while I polished off the first and Lisa squatted briefly on the side of the bed.

“I was wondering if you'd like to come to church with us this morning. I mean you're not going to get home in time for yours and I'm sure the girls would love to spend some time with their mad aunt. And future uncle.”

I glanced at Mike who shrugged. Lisa was right and a quiet afternoon with family seemed like such a good idea, and since Mike had made the effort to come all this way... I nodded.

“Great. The service starts at ten thirty and it'll take us ten minutes to walk there, so you have just over an hour to get ready. You'll stay for lunch afterwards and if you're lucky we may let you go after tea.”

Mike looked a little uncomfortable and I knew he wouldn't say anything, so I did. My family, my 'splainin'.

“Sorry Lisa we'll have to go sooner. Mike needs to be at the restaurant by five so three's our deadline, two-thirty better still.”

“You open on a Sunday too?”

“It's not our busiest night of the week, but usually we have enough reservations to make it worthwhile.”

I finished a third slice of toast and washed it all down with the glass of orange juice that had been sitting on the tray, This turned out to have consequences.

“Oops. Loo, loo. Emergency.”

Lisa grabbed the tray and I dashed for the door, making it to the bathroom just in time.

Mike had given some thought to his packing, bringing what looked to him like the most comfortable things in my closet. The dress was a bit of a sack; frills and bows to be sure, but not that attractive. It wasn't one I'd ever chosen to wear before, but being part of the Elle-gance bundle that Karen had brought round for me, it had lived in my wardrobe even so. On the plus side it was loose around the bust and had a modest collar so the bruising to my chest was well hidden.

The underwear was plain and comfortable, the bra being a sports bra much like the ones I'd taken for Em and Charley. It was a little snug, but without underwiring or any of the other torturous design enhancements intended to make boobs perk and look bigger than they are, it was comfortable. The dressing didn't take long, but the makeup was something of a herculean task. The sunglasses helped immensely, cutting down the amount of plaster necessary to cover the visible blemishes. I was ready with a couple of minutes to spare.

“Just no-one make me laugh, not unless you want to see the last half hour's efforts gone to waste.”

They laughed even so, especially the girls, and I was hard pressed to keep my face still enough not to introduce cracks into the thickly applied foundation.

Glen and Lisa's local church was old fashioned and Anglican, much like the one I'd grown up in. In a small village like this, if you didn't come to church, you missed out on half the village life, so there wasn't much option. Despite that, the vicar took his job seriously and what came from the pulpit was something more than meaningless homilies. I can't say I took it all in, but there was one bit that made me sit up and take notice.

“In the eighth chapter of the Gospel of St John we come across Jesus' description of the Devil as, 'a murderer from the beginning, who does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. Whenever he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own nature; for he is a liar, and the father of lies.'

“Now whether you consider Satan to be an actual entity or the personification of the evil within our world, there are none here, I should think, who have not felt discouragement from time to time which we have been inclined to attribute to our own shortcomings, or indeed have begun to doubt their own calling and worth in the sight of God.

“Such oppressive thoughts are invariably false and, whether you consider them to be born from your own insecurity or whispered in your ear by the source of all evil, the result is the same. Discouragement, dejection, disillusionment.

“Consider the thoughts and words that bring you low. You will find that, although they contain a semblance of truth, there is no actual truth within them. The attitudes and opinions you believe your friends and family have to have towards you are often less than they are, and on the occasions where such thoughts are genuinely poor, it is almost always your accuser that is in the wrong rather than you.

“It is important that we each take on the responsibility of encouraging one another. Being British we find it difficult to accept complements of any kind, but without such rays of sunlight in our lives it is unlikely we will grow and flourish as we truly can.

“And take this as encouragement. If you are in Christ Jesus, the evil one has no power over you. As Romans eight verses thirty eight and thirty nine say, 'neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' Furthermore, take to heart the words from Philippians one verse six which say, 'he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.'

“Be confident. He has called you by name and you are His.”

I know they're not words everyone believes or accepts, but to me at that moment in time they were just what I needed to hear. I thought of the things that voice had said to me the previous night. It wasn't disapproval towards me or Ken my parents had shown, but rather a rejection of the idea their son could be transformed into a teenage girl, and who could blame them? Mike's own rejection of me had the same source, as had Sharon's come to think of it. That tramp in the park was so much more than just a homeless guy. Hadn't he seen into my mind? Hadn't he answered questions before I'd spoken them? Hadn't he pointed out where I might find Sharon, in a random café in the middle of nowhere? Everything the voice had said was a lie, and I'd been so keen to believe it, because somewhere deep in my mind it was what I expected of those around me.

I leaned against Mike and felt his arm go around me. That wasn't the reaction of a man who saw me as a freak. I blinked back grateful tears, conscious of the mess they would make of my plaster job. Mike kissed the top of my head and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

A packet of tissues and a handy compact helped repair most of the damage done to my disguise. The vicar looked at me oddly until I told him about my narrow escape and face full of airbag the previous day. I told him how much his words had meant to me and thanked him, then rushed away before my eyes started to leak again.

-oOo-
Back at Glen and Lisa's we were greeted by the mouth-watering smell of a joint well on the way to being roasted. I offered to help Lisa, but she sent me to be entertained by my nieces while she conscripted Mike and Glen to kitchen duty. Gemma and Abby took their assigned task seriously and before long I was caught up in a game of connect four with the girls working together against me. They made a pretty good team as well, and ten minutes in we were at two games all and playing the decider when the door bell sounded. Lisa stuck her head out of the kitchen.

“That'll be Gran and Grandpa Gem, would you let them in please?”

The older and wiser of my opponents dashed off to let in the new arrivals. A perfect chance to sneak in a move if I hadn't been distracted by the new arrivals.

“You invited...?”

“We do this every couple of weeks Liz so no it's isn't something we arranged especially for you. You can get mad at us for not telling you, but we wanted you and Mike to stay for dinner as well and we didn't know how you'd feel...”

My parents came into the lounge, my mum first, looking for Abby with a bright polished smile on her face, and my dad following with his old man's shuffle. They saw me about the same time and turned in unison to Lisa for an explanation.

“Hi, Mum, Dad. We've a couple of friends joining us for lunch today, I hope you don't mind. This is Liz whom I'm sure you've seen on the television in recent weeks, and this is her fiancé, Mike.

“Liz had a little car trouble yesterday so we offered her a spare bed for the night, and Mike came up this morning to collect her.”

“Aren't you the young girl...?”

“Yes Mu... Mrs Stanton, I came to see you yesterday.”

“Whatever happened to your face dear?”

“Oh, I had a little excitement with the car as Lisa said and the airbag went off. They may save lives, but they're rather painful when they hit you in the face and chest.”

“Are you alright? I mean if this had anything to do with us.”

I pushed out a laugh, trying to make it lighter and more real than it actually was.

“No Mrs Stanton, it was all my own silly fault. And I'm fine, a bit shaken last night, but nothing a good night's sleep hasn't helped.”

“Auntie Liz can we get back to our game now?”

I smiled apologetically at my parents.

“Please excuse me, we're in the middle of a hard fought battle and I need all my wits about me.”

I'd hoped that would be it, but Mum continued to hover, looking over my shoulder at the game.

“Why do they call you Auntie Liz?”

“We all prefer it that way.”

Please shut up and go away. She didn't

“So how do you know Glen and Lisa? You seem a little young.”

“Glen and I have known each other for a long time Mrs Stanton.”

Speak of the devil — actually given recent circumstances that's not the best of clichés. Anyway, Glen chose that moment to come out of the kitchen with a handful of cutlery and place mats, with which he started to lay the table.

“Glen you never told me about Liz. When did you two meet?”

Stop fishing woman. Glen sensed my reluctance to pursue the conversation and tried to evade.

“Oh quite a while, certainly before I met Lisa.”

“But she's so much younger than you.”

“Oh we were never like that, no that would be too weird. We're friends, close friends. Like br...”

“Whose turn is it? Is it mine?”

I dropped my counter into a slot that would give them a line in two moves. Abby spotted it and pointed it out even as Gemma was moving to take advantage of my lapse. I dropped a counter to stop the immediate threat but opened up a new one and the girls placed their winning piece with gleeful squeals.

“You girls are too good for me today. No not another game please, why not something else?”

Abby ran off and came careening back with her latest plush toy.

“Tell us a story about Mr Sandbag.”

Mr Sandbag, or so I presume, was thrust onto my lap and the girls clambered either side of me. It was something I'd done for them as Ken, and it seemed my nieces had decided having a new identity and a new gender wasn't enough of a reason for me to stop. Mum gave me an odd look, but at least I had managed to derail Glen. He had never been one for subtlety my brother.

Lisa had been earwigging and stuck her head round the corner.

“Make it quick, lunch is almost ready.”

It ended up being a story about how Mr Sandbag had come by his name. It involved a seaside village in the Netherlands that was in imminent danger of flooding from an unnaturally high summer tide. The villages kept piling sandbag after sandbag onto their makeshift dam, but no matter how high they built it, the sea rose higher still. Eventually the village ran out of sacks — or was it sand? — and were on the edge of despair when the scary monster who had been terrorising the countryside for months turned up, curious as to why everyone was running around. He saw the sea was about to broach the dam and climbed up on top where he lay down filling the gap and saving the village. The villagers gave him the name Mr Sandbag to remind them to be thankful for his kindness instead of scared of his appearance and everyone lived happily ever after, especially Mr Sandbag who had only ever wanted a friend.

Ok so what do you want for an off the top of your head story? The girls enjoyed it and it only took ten minutes to tell, which more or less coincided with the arrival of the feast.

Mum eased off her Rottweiler instincts and the conversation drifted on to easier topics, such as progress with the homeless work I was doing, what Mike did for a living, when we were planning to marry. I mean we remained the focus of interest, but at least I didn't have to tiptoe around the truth whenever I answered.

As the meal came to an end I could see Mike looking nervously at the clock and made excuses for both of us. The girls groaned out their disappointment until I promised we'd come and see them again soon. We did a quick round of goodbye hugs then Mike went out to warm up the car while I fetched my few things from the bedroom. Mum followed me an intercepted me on the way back.

“You know my Kenneth used to tell stories like that to Gemma and Abby.”

“Mrs Stanton, I was a little selfish last night, thinking about what I want rather than considering your needs and... Mr Stanton's. I'm not sure what is going to be easier for you to believe and to live with; the idea that your son has had to go into hiding and you may never see him again, or the idea that your son has been miraculously transformed into a young woman. I don't want to bring you any more grief than you already carry, so I'll let you decide which 'truth' you want to live with and do my best to abide by your wishes.

“I wish we had more time to speak, but my fiancé needs to get back to his restaurant so I'm afraid we must go. Perhaps we could meet for a cup of tea the next time I come this way?”

There was a quiver to the old woman's lips and a stray teardrop trickled from one of her eyes.

“Yes. Yes I think I should like that very much. You know I am so very proud? My son? My... daughter?”

Sunglasses are useful for hiding blemishes and the odd tear, but they are a nuisance when the dam breaks. I threw my arms around my mother's neck, careless of the pain in my chest, and threw the shades onto a nearby chair as I sobbed my relief onto her shoulder. Glen's head appeared briefly wondering what was taking so much time, and then withdrew quickly when he saw what was going on. Eventually Mum pushed me gently away.

“Your young man is waiting and you have to go. Come visit soon, I think we have a great deal of catching up to do.”

I nodded and snivelled, collecting my discarded things.

“What about Dad?”

“I don't know dear. He's a stubborn old coot, but for all his ways, his heart's in the right place. He may come round, but it'll take time and careful handling.”

We hugged again, a much warmer goodbye than previously, and I hurried out to rejoin Mike who took one look at me and grunted.

“I don't know why you bother with makeup you know. Bloody waste of money if you ask me.”

-oOo-
“Mike?”

“Mmn?”

“How do you see me?”

It probably wasn't fair of me to ask a serious question like that while we were on the motorway, but Mike did alright. He didn't answer right away, giving due consideration to his words before speaking.

“I think I still mainly see the pretty, intelligent, vivacious young girl Sharon and Phil brought to my restaurant a few months back. Not quite perfect, but then I'm not sure I'd want you to be. I'm glad I managed to get that sorted out in my head early on, although I'm sorry for the grief it caused you.”

“What about Ken?”

“I never knew Ken.”

“That's not what I meant.”

He glanced a question over at me. What did I mean?

“You know that I used to be a guy.”

“Up here I do.” He pointed to his head, then shifted his finger to his chest. “Down here all I feel when I look at you is a deep and abiding love for the woman you so obviously are.”

Words I so longed to hear. He wasn't done though.

“I think I know what you mean though. I don't consider myself an intolerant person but I can't help feeling... uncomfortable around people who adopt alternative lifestyles where gender and sexuality are concerned. I see two guys holding hands or kissing and, while my mind is happily acknowledging their right to do so and respecting their choice to live that way because that's the way they're made, deep down in my gut there's a sense that it... well it doesn't feel right.

“I can't help that I feel that way — I don't even want to feel that way — but it's the way I'm made. I think it would be worse meeting a guy who was living as a girl, even if he was doing the whole hormones-stroke-surgery bit, because it would be difficult for me to see him as anything other than a guy whatever he did to his body, and by dressing as a woman it'd be like he was tricking my body into being attracted to him. Sort of like tricking me into being homosexual which I know I'm not. I even know that's not his intent, but it feels that way deep down.

“If this whole magic thing hadn't happened and you were Ken who'd decided to go through the transition as far as medical science can take you these days, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have the same relationship. I'd still like you because you're an amazing person with a heart as big as the universe, a great mind and a fun sense of humour, but I wouldn't feel the same way about you as I do now.”

“Well I most likely wouldn't be as good looking.”

“There is that, but most of it would come from not being sure what you were. However much you looked like a woman, I don't know that I could convince my heart that you really were.”

“I'd still be the same person inside.”

“I'm not totally sure you would be. From the way you and Phil talk, Ken was quiet, introverted, uncomfortable in his own skin. Liz is open, bouncy, full of energy, excited, exciting, unrestrained. You know who you are now and it feels so right to you. I'm not sure there wouldn't be just that shadow of doubt if you went through a surgical change. I'm not sure you'd be as unrestrainedly joyful as you are now. You'd have to face the judgement of people who wouldn't agree with your transition, whereas right now no-one questions who and what you are. Rather you're more inclined to get questions and disbelief if you try to say that you used to be a man.

“What happened to you is a dream come true for someone with a mind like yours. Reality for most people like you is harder and sadly, with the intolerance of society, born to some degree from the way most of us are put together, ends up being a decision between two bad choices. Either hide who you are inside and pretend to fit in or make the change and live with the consequences.

“You say you've always been a woman inside. I can accept that and my very male mind has found it so easy to fall in love with your very female one. The thing is your body is also all female too, however it got to be that way, so it makes it easy for my base animal nature to accept you as such.

“As often as I come in contact with people on the fringe of society, I will try to understand, to respect, to treat them as the human beings they are, but it won't be easy. In the same way that people like Ken struggle with the wrongness that has them looking like one thing and feeling like another, so a great many people, who are lucky enough to be the same inside and out, struggle with why others need to go to such lengths to change themselves.

“As with all things where there are wide differences of opinion and difficulties in understand, it's going to take commitment, gentleness and tolerance on both sides to resolve, and it won't happen quickly.”

Silence filled the space between us as I pondered his words. Mike must have found it oppressive.

“Hey, you're the one who wanted honesty in our relationship.”

“No it's ok. Ken would have been grateful for your openness and honesty and would have accepted your commitment to friendship as perhaps enough. You're right about how he would feel going through the transition. A major reason why I never seriously considered doing it was because I had a pretty good idea what it would do to my parents. I could never find happiness for myself if I brought them such grief.”

“What about you? I mean do you ever get the feeling the Ken is inside you looking out?”

“Not ever. Everything I feel right now, I feel as a woman.”

“Not even slightly attracted to pretty girls?”

“No. My interest there extends only in so far as how their look might possibly help me with my own. Men on the other hand. Mnhmm there are some good looking men out there, and just thinking of having them on top of me, inside of me. Whoa, sends me hot and tingly just thinking about it.”

“Careful, you're rousing the little green eyed monster in me.”

“Well tell him to bugger off. If you knew my favourite fantasy you wouldn't be worried.”

I reached out a hand to stroke the inside of his thigh and became aware of an involuntary movement a little higher up.

“Liz, much as I'm going to regret asking you to stop, I don't think it's wise tempting a second accident in as many days.”

I reluctantly withdrew my hand and snuggled sideways into my seat, gazing at the man I loved, that I now felt free to love as I knew Ken never would have.

“I love you Mike Paston. With all your quirks and imperfections, you are still the kindest and most generous man I've ever known.”

He grinned his lopsided grin at me.

“And you Elizabeth Raeburn, soon to be Elizabeth Paston. I love you too, with all my heart, all my mind and everything in me.”

-oOo-
We spent the rest of the journey discussing wedding plans. Actually it was more me speaking and Mike nodding, but that's normal right?

We set the date for early August when we'd have the best chance for good weather, as I wanted the ceremony outside. We'd already talked to Pastor James about his presiding and were aware that, since the wedding we were planning wasn't taking place inside a licensed building, we'd need to go through the formalities at a registry office too. That didn't bother me. I'd marry Mike as many times as it would take to bring us together.

The outside venue was to be the park area behind Mike's restaurant with marquees enough to protect us from sun or rain, whatever the British summer would bring us.

We did disagree over the catering and guest lists though. I wanted to invite all the homeless people I knew, or at least all the ones staying in the shelter — possibly shelters by August — and Mike was adamant that the wedding itself should be for close friends and family rather than acquaintances. In the end we compromised and agreed to arrange for the shelters to have parties, with feast provided while we had our ceremony on the hill with those nearest and dearest to us.

Phil would be Mike's best man — his choice I should say, I didn't organise everything (quite) — and Sharon my maiden of honour. He would, as tradition dictated, take care of the honeymoon while I arranged everything else. It was the kind of fun I'd never imagined , sorting through all the little details and deciding who would do what, and as I nattered on I caught Mike shaking his head.

“What?”

“And you were worried that there might be a bit of Ken showing through.”

He knows just the right things to say sometimes, my man.

-oOo-
Our slightly delayed departure, combined with heavier traffic than anticipated, put us behind time so we went straight to Mike's restaurant. He offered me the keys to his car — no insignificant act considering what I had done to my own ride — and seemed relieved when I declined. I still wasn't quite ready to climb back on the horse, besides if I hung around for a while I might be able to scrounge one of those cordon bleu meals this place was so famous for. He let me into his office where I set about a small amount of unfinished business.

First was a call to Karen to confess to my recent mishap and the effect it was going to have on my ability to look beautiful for a few days. Amazing how funny it is to listen to someone who's trying to be sympathetic and angry at the same time. She wanted to see me, to see for herself how extensive the damage was. I told her I was a Mike's but she said the next morning would be soon enough and she'd pop around then. I told her I'd most likely be back home by then, but to call me beforehand to make sure.

The second call was to Sharon — Phil was there too, no big surprise — to explain why we hadn't made it to church that morning. Again the story came out and this time won me some quality comforting.

Third call to Pastor James to apologise as Mike and I had been due to spend time with him today. He unsurprisingly told me not to worry about it and suggested a few new dates for the meeting. We settled on an eleven o'clock appointment on Tuesday which would give Mike time enough to shop for his groceries and drive over to the pastor's house before the meeting was due to start.

There was no-one else I needed to talk to, but I did put in a call to my parent's house. Dad answered the phone and was quick enough to pass it across when he found out who it was.

“Hi Mum, it's Liz. I thought I'd give you a quick call to let you know we got home safely.”

“Thank-you dear. It was lovely to meet you today, you are such a delightful young woman. Did you give any thought to what we talked about?”

“I expect I'll have to come up sometime during the week to collect my car. I'll let you know as soon as the garage tells me when it'll be ready and see if we can arrange something about that time. Ok?”

“That sounds fine dear. I'll look forward to it. Now you get some rest won't you?”

“Yes Mum. I love you.”

“I er... well yes just the same. Goodbye dear.”

“Bye Mum.”

I suppose there would be no prizes for guessing Dad was nearby.

Mike's office had a small two seater couch against one wall so, having dealt with all the essentials that had sprung to mind, I slipped my shoes off and tucked my legs up under the dress, intending to settle down a rest my eyes for just a few moments. The next I knew it was three hours later and Mike was standing in the doorway with a try of something mouth-watering.

“You know you look ever so cute in that dress. I think I can imagine what our daughter will look like.”

“Well all I care about is that it's loose fitting and comfortable. Is that for me?”

“Us actually. We have a lull and the guys shooed my up here with some food. You know James is turning out to be quit an accomplished chef. I may have to look into opening a second restaurant for him to run if I don't want to risk losing him altogether.”

“Now that sounds like a plan.” I patted the couch beside me. “Come sit over here and let's talk about it over whatever's under that dish.”

-oOo-
The last of the customers left shortly after ten which meant, after clearing up and closing, we were on our way back to my flat by eleven. I'd managed a few hours extra kip, surprising myself with how tired I was. Mike was tired too after all the driving and working, so we called it a night on the doorstep.

It was felt good to be home, even after a day away, and I was heading for the shower when there was a knock at my door. Sharon had been waiting up for me and had come across as soon as she'd heard doors banging. She was in her night clothes so evidently not planning on staying long. She did make all the appropriate sympathy noises when she saw my bruises and that earned her a hot chocolate and a description of everything that had happened.

She was quite freaked out about the voice, but I'd heard nothing from it since the near accident so I wasn't unduly worried. A little curious perhaps, I mean it didn't seem likely that it would give up just like that after my narrow escape. I figured it was probably biding its time, waiting for a vulnerable moment to strike again, but I wasn't feeling that vulnerable right now. I mean let's face it, I had the affirmation of the man I loved, my mum knew who I was and wasn't totally freaked out by it, plus I had the vicar's words to encourage me. If this thing, whatever it was, needed its victims to be weak and vulnerable in order to slip its insinuating lies past my defences, it wasn't likely to get through again. Not in a hurry anyway.

Sharon didn't stay long, and once she'd gone I took my quick shower and snuggled into bed with Jenny Doll for company. Sleep wasn't long in coming and what dreams it brought were peaceful.

I didn't set an alarm, but was awake and feeling fresh by eight. I dressed casually in loose clothing, the bruises on and around my breasts still sensitive enough to cause me some discomfort, and set about making coffee and breakfast. Mr Pinkie presented me with an obscene number of e-mails given that I had only been away from technology for a day and half, and I spent the time until Karen arrived skimming through my inbox and replying to the important bits. I was less than halfway through when the bell went.

“Oh my, yes I see what you mean. No you're right I can't expect you to go out looking like that, even with a liberal amount of foundation over the top.

“Tell you what, here's a card for someone who's really good at these sorts of things. Tell her I referred you and she should be able to set you up an appointment for later today or tomorrow morning at the latest. I'm not promising anything, but she's done wonders for other girls in the past. Whatever she says though, you do it. It works.”

I picked up the phone and dialled then and there. As promised, Karen's name got me a three o'clock slot that afternoon.

Even with the miracle worker due to work on me, Karen told me she didn't expect me to be sufficiently mended for couple of weeks and suggested I might want to concentrate on my homeless project. I was only too happy to accept.

After Karen left, seeking solace as usual in her mobile phone, I put a call through to Glen's garage to see if they'd had a chance to look over my little baby. They hadn't, but agreed to call me back after half an hour. When they did call back it was with reasonably good news. The could get hold of and fit a new airbag by Wednesday afternoon and a quick look over the underside of the car suggested that the that rest of the car had survived my unorthodox manoeuvring relatively unscathed. They'd have to check properly of course and would let me know if there was likely to be any additional expense, but the estimate for repairs was likely to be in the two to three hundred quid range which seemed very reasonable.

My next phone call was to Mum to make arrangements to do lunch on Wednesday. She suggested shopping afterwards which sounded pretty good to me. I booked a train ticket next then returned to my still bulging inbox.

Mike joined me for lunch, then drove me to my appointment with Karen's wonder woman where my bruises were gently massaged — uncomfortable but not painful — and I was given a bottle of pills to take. Not prescription meds I hasten to say, but rather a mixture of vitamins and minerals. She arranged another appointment for Thursday after which there was nothing much she would be able to do.

I'm not sure if Mike was trying to cheer me up, but he said he thought he saw an improvement even in the short time I'd spent being poked and prodded. The time was rapidly approaching when duty would call him back to the restaurant so he drove me home and we shared a coffee and a cuddle before he went to work. I invited Sharon and Phil over for to share dinner that evening, feeling an acute need for company. Sharon and I cooked with Phil doing the menial tasks, then we let him settle in front of the TV watching some dismally tedious football match while Sharon and I talked wedding plans.

Tuesday was more of the same only less interesting, the first part of the morning spent on the phone chasing possible leads for trainers at the shelter and arranging meetings to arrange the use of a second building, the rest spent with Mike visiting Pastor James for our first pre-wedding chat, than sitting around enjoying one another's company until he had to go. Sharon and Phil had other plans for the evening so I turned in early, eager to hasten the arrival of Wednesday morning with its promise of new adventure. Travelling alone on the train as a girl to meet my mother for lunch and a shopping trip may not seem massively exciting, but it comprised two new firsts for me.

The train journey was uneventful enough. I bought a book before boarding, something soppy with a pink cover and a picture of a girl dancing in a field of flowers, and hid behind it for most of the journey. There was one guy who tried to chat me up but he backed off when I gave him a gentle smile and flashed my sapphire and diamonds.

The book was an enjoyable, if not particularly challenging, read with well-defined if predictable characters and plot. I was halfway through and reluctant to put it down when the train pulled into my destination. Wandering the familiar streets of my childhood town as a different person was utterly strange. There were people I remembered, shopkeepers and the like, older and greyer but otherwise the same. Friends from the past, now turned strangers by my new appearance. I whiled away the rest of the morning revisiting old haunts and wallowing in melancholy nostalgia. So sad to go home and find you no longer belong. So sad to see how little it has change and how much you have.

Mum was already waiting at Luigi's even when I arrived fifteen minutes early; I guess we were both keen to meet and get to know each other again. It felt wonderful to lose myself in her embrace. As Ken I wouldn't have dared, but her warm welcome did a lot to lift my mood. The chat started innocently enough with me asking after Dad's knees. March was just around the corner and his surgery couldn't come soon enough. We wittered on about different things, mainly Mum getting me up to speed on everyone's news from the neighbourhood, until our food arrived.

“So you're getting married.”

There was just the vaguest hint of regret in her words, but I caught it.

“I'm sorry but that would have been a really strange conversation; 'hi Mum it's Ken. I'm a girl now and I've met this really nice guy and we're getting married in August.'”

“I suppose you're right. He seems nice, if maybe a little old?”

I guess you don't have to have a daughter long before you get all protective. I clamped down on the smile and tried to answer seriously.

“He's twenty-seven Mum, the same as me.”

“But you're...”

“I know it's strange Mum. I know I look like I just finished college, but what's inside is still largely the original.”

“Largely?”

“Same person, same memories, mainly the same attitudes. Different moods thanks to different hormones, and happier — oh so much happier — because this is how I've always wanted to be.”

“I do remember my clothes being disturbed a few times when you were younger. Oh you were very careful, everything went back almost exactly as you found it, but you get to notice those sort of things. I wasn't sure what to do about it, hoped you'd grow out of it you know? I suppose it's just as good that you grew into it so to speak. Does Mike know about you?”

The segue almost took me by surprise. I'd forgotten Mum's way of digging for answers by suddenly changing the subject.

“Yes he does. We nearly ended over it because he didn't believe me, not because he was weirded out by it.”

“What changed his mind?”

“Well you remember I told you what happened to me? The young lady who changed me into this?”

“Yes.”

This was thin ice. I could see how hard it was for her to accept my story even though she accepted that I was, or at least had been, her son. I decided to gloss over things, move away from this as soon as I could.

“It seems she did it to a few others and we all ended up looking exactly the same. I found one out on the streets and Mike was there when he told his story.”

“He? I thought you said he was changed to look like you.”

“It's complicated Mum. I've learned to think of gender as having more to do with the way your mind works than the way your body looks. Yes he was female in every physical way, but in his mind he still saw himself as a man.”

“Oh how horrible. You say 'was'. What happened to, er, him?”

“It wasn't pleasant. He's dead now.”

“And the others?”

“Mostly dead, but there are two survivors that I know about. I visited them before coming to see you on Saturday. Will you and Dad come to the wedding?”

I can change the subject too when I want to. Like mother like daughter. It worked too, Mum jerked herself away from her uneasy musing and let my impending nuptials take over.

“Wild horses wouldn't keep me away dear, and I'll bring your father if I can.”

“I'd really like him to give me away.”

“I'm sure you would sweetheart, but that me be asking a bit much. He's stubborn old bugger, oops pardon my French. I'm pretty sure he won't change his mind about you any time soon. I'll work on him a little, but don't expect much.”

Lunch was over so we paid and headed into town. It's hard to explain how much a shopping expedition can draw you close to someone. Pointing out clothes you think would look good on the people you're with goes a long way towards telling them how you see them, and pointing out your own choices tells them how you see yourself. The afternoon was a voyage of discovery and by the end we had a clearer feel for each other than we'd ever had before. I bought a few things Mum suggested for me towards the end of the afternoon, more as an affirmation of what we had shared than because I needed the clothes. I also bought her a dress I knew she really liked.

“This seems strange, I feel like I should be buying clothes for you dear.”

“You did that for long enough Mum, and I can afford this. Look I want to. Sort of a way of saying thank-you. Thank-you for seeing me as I am, for accepting me as I am.”

“That's not difficult Elizabeth. I saw so much of Kenneth inside you on Sunday I couldn't deny who you were, and now seeing you like this. I was proud enough of you when you went off to London to make your own life, how could I not be prouder knowing all that you've done in the last few months.”

She walked with me to the garage where my little yellow baby was waiting for me, a little scuffed under the sills, but otherwise in fine condition. I paid the bill, which was no more than the estimate, and we struggled to fit out purchases into the limited luggage space, and our selves, Mum especially, into the low seats.

“You know this really isn't that dignified for a lady of my years.”

“I know and I'm sorry, but I'm really grateful for your coming along. This is my first time behind the wheel since I had my accident and I'm a little nervous. Having company helps.”

I drove her home and helped her out with much shared laughter at our joint struggle to raise her up to the vertical from such a low position, then she insisted I come in for a cup of tea. Dad was in his usual seat in the lounge and he gave me a disapproving look as I walked in.

“You remember Elizabeth from the weekend don't you George? I invited her back for some tea before she drives home.”

There was a sternness in her voice that brooked no argument and Dad subsided back into his chair looking just a little hard done by. I settled myself gingerly into one of the vacant chairs feeling oddly out of place in my parent's home.

“Olive tells me you're having surgery on your knees soon.”

Old people love to talk about their ailments and my father is no exception. When it became apparent I wasn't going to tell him any unbelievable stories like on my previous visit, he opened up and over the next hour I learnt everything there was to know about knees, or so it seemed.

Tea and sandwiches later, I made my excuses and headed for home.

I had half expected the accusing voice to resume where it had left off, but in the fading afternoon light the road looked very different, and I was filled with happier more confident thoughts. There was nothing it could tell me now that I would believe so it left me alone. I hoped it was gone for good, but rather suspected it was just skulking in the shadows waiting for a new opportunity.

The drive home was effortless and enjoyable. It was nearly opening time at the restaurant when I pulled up outside my flat, but time enough for a quick call to Mike. He answered on the second ring.

“Hi sweets, how'd it go?”

“Great, great and reasonably great. Mum's totally on board, Dad less so but at least he's talking to me and the car drives as well as it ever did. I just arrived home and wanted you to let you know.”

“Thanks love. Listen, things are about to get crazy here. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Anytime beloved. I'll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too, bye.”

The light on my answerphone flashed a greeting at me as I walked through the door. Just the one message. I dumped my bags on the sofa and pressed play.

“Miss Raeburn? Doctor Marston here. Your sisters. I wonder if you could take the time to come and visit tomorrow morning. Rather urgent.”