You meant it for evil - 22 by Maeryn Lamonte MAJOR CAUTIONARY WARNING: Ultimate cliff-hanger ahead. Not for the squeamish. “I was wondering when you were going to get round to proposing to Sharon again.” Ok, so maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't do subtle. He was looking sheepish and evasive. Warning bells started to ringing at the back of my mind. “Actually, I've been giving that some thought, and I'm not sure I'm going to.”

-oOo-
I settled onto a nearby barstool like slowly deflating punch bag.

“Why? I mean what's brought this on?”

“It's just that... Just that since Sharon and I have got back together things have been different. Especially lately. She keeps looking at me as though she's waiting for me to screw up again or something.”

“You are kidding right?”

He took his change from the barman and looked round at me in confusion.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean you can't really be that dense?”

“Hey! I'm bearing my soul here. The least you can do is show a little sympathy.”

“Sympathy is not what you need Phil. More like therapy. She's waiting for you to propose not mess up. I mean haven't you noticed the hints she's been dropping?”

“What?”

“A few weeks back she and I went into a jeweller’s because she wanted to check her ring size. It's how she got my size for Mike so he could get my ring sorted, but I'm pretty sure she had it in mind to leave hers lying around for you to find.”

“That's what that was.”

“Yes dummy. The girl is just as crazy about you as she was when you first started going out.”

“But what if I screw things up a second time?”

“Oh I wouldn't worry about that. I mean sooner or later you will screw up again. The great thing about it all is that she's already forgiven you for being the completest and utterest jackass in existence, so when you do mess up again, it won't be as bad. And if she can forgive you for what you already did, she can forgive you pretty much anything.”

The look he gave me would have been priceless if it hadn't been so genuinely miserable. I found myself taking pity on him.

“Hey, dickhead, get your mind straight. Last time was down to your so called friends at work. Remember, they almost cost you your job as well as your girlfriend, and they didn't lift a finger to help. This time round just don't include them and you should be fine. You've got a lot going for you Phil, which is why Sharon has stuck by you; also probably why you didn't get sacked, 'cos your bosses probably have a better idea than you think of what really went down.

“Look, I understand what's dragging you down; heaven knows I've felt it enough times. You mess up like you did and you start to wonder if you'll ever do anything right again. You keep second guessing yourself and become your own self-fulfilling prophesy. You fail because you think you're going to fail. What you need is to start believing in yourself again. Get your self-confidence back. As soon as you start thinking you're a winner, guess what?”

“I become a winner?”

“Not what I was going for because I think you are a winner already. I was going to say you start winning again.

“Sharon is lucky to have you and she knows it. All you need to do is start knowing it too.”

There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. How to turn a glowing ember into a raging fire? Blow on it, gently.

“Do you love her?”

“You know I do.”

I didn't, but we weren't going to get stuck debating that point.

“Then tell her that, and buy her a fucking ring man.”

Ok so maybe when blowing gently doesn't work you have to get a bit more forceful. The expletive was like a bucket of water; it shook him out of his moping. He favoured me with a grin.

“Thanks mate. You know, you always had my back and I never realised how much until this happened to you.”

“Well if you've realised it that's a bonus. Shall we get back to the others before they start to wonder if we're up to something?”

I grabbed Mike's beer and my glass of rosé and headed for the restaurant. As predicted, Mike and Sharon were looking around for us as we appeared, and waved us over.

“What happened? We were about to send out a search party.”

Phil kissed Sharon on the top of the head and handed her a glass of white wine.

“Nothing love, we were, er, catching up.”

The lunch past amicably enough, the food as good as expected from someone Mike would recommend. Things were different, you couldn't deny that. I was definitely clinging onto Mike more than I had been, leaning against him, holding his arm, reaching out to touch him at every opportunity. He didn't seem to mind, in fact he seemed to revel in the extra attention. Phil also was more attentive to Sharon than he had been. So much so that she kept giving me odd questioning looks as though I were responsible, which, ok perhaps I was. A little.

With the main course finished, I suggested Mike indulge his sweet tooth but that I didn't want anything, except maybe a spoonful or two of what he was having and maybe a coffee, if it was decent. I excused myself to attend to private matters, and Sharon slipped out of her chair to follow, giving Phil similar instructions regarding dessert.

-oOo-
Urgent business tended to, I set about essential facial maintenance. Sharon came alongside a few seconds later and, under guise of doing the same, started her interrogation.

“Ok, what did you say to him?”

I feigned innocence.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes you do. You said something to Phil while Mike and I were grabbing seats in the restaurant. What was it?”

“I told him to stop being an idiot. It does seem as though he listened doesn't it?”

She crossed her arms and turned a pointed expression my way.

“You said a whole lot more than that Missy...”

“And if I did that's between him and me. He's a good guy Sharon; he's worth a bit of patience. Can I offer a bit of advice though?”

“What is it?”

“Try being a little less subtle with him for a while. I know it's fun just hinting at things and seeing whether they're paying enough attention to notice, but you have to recognise when they're struggling a bit and be a bit blunt. We all need reassurance from time to time, but guys especially I think.”

“Is that from personal experience?”

“Yes actually. We may have equality, or something approaching it, in this country, but guys are still out there on their own a lot more than us girls.”

From her posture, she still wasn't quite convinced.

“Listen Sharon, you've been a better friend to me than I could ever wish for. I love you like a sister, I mean you're going to be my maid of honour for heaven's sake. You have to know I would never do anything to hurt you. If I'm keeping schtum about what Phil and I shared, it's because I think it's best for both you and him that I keep it that way.

“For the rest, yes I do have a broader perspective than most people, and I'm pretty certain that what Phil needs more than anything right now is to know how you feel. Not hints and suggestions, but an in your face declaration.”

She relented a bit. I think the reminder of what we were to each other allowed her to trust me. It also acted as an case study for what I was talking about. Her arms dropped to her side and her gaze shifted away from me to her reflection and occasionally mine.

“So what's with you and Mike? You're a lot more lovey dovey touchy feely than you have been. What's going on?”

I had been so busy trying to sort other people's lives out it came as a surprise to have her probing into my own. Lipstick hung unused in mid-air, eyes dropped. I fought a sudden prickling at the back of my eyes. Damn, I'd just fixed my eyes, I didn't want to do it again.

“Sweetie what's wrong?”

Trust Sharon to pick up on what was festering inside me and lance it like a boil. All those things I hadn't told Mike about yet, all the fear of loss I had pushed down inside me. This morning's moments of pleasure and fulfilment had all been about reassuring myself of who I was and whose I was, but the fear was still there, lurking in the darkness.

“I nearly lost him this weekend.”

“Who, Mike? Liz, how can you say that? I've never seen anyone more devoted to another person.”

“Emily escaped yesterday. She... I mean he, Paul, made a similar sort of deal to Mary. He... He nearly kissed me.”

It took a few seconds for Sharon to process what that actually meant, then with dawning realisation and a growing sense of horror, she reached out to me and held me to her. That was all it took to release the sickening fear I had been holding back. I sobbed into her shoulder for some minutes, taking needed comfort from her tight hold on me. The tears kept on coming leaving even me surprised at how deeply I had been affected. When I was finally spent I clung still to Sharon and spoke into her shoulder.

“I haven't told Mike yet.”

“He won't hear it from me.”

I sniffed and pulled away.

“Thanks. For that and for listening.”

It took further ten minutes to repair the damage done, during which time I filled her in on the unspoken details. When I was done, we gave each other a once over and a nod of approval. Taking a deep breath and as much courage as we could draw from each other — no small amount either — we headed back to the table.

-oOo-
“You took your time.”

Phil stating the obvious, but more out of concern than anything else.

“There was a queue.”

Sharon's little lie was enough to forestall any more questions from Phil, but Mike was looking at me carefully and raised an eyebrow slightly when he knew I was looking back. I smiled a little weakly. I suspected there would be questions on the journey home. Fortunately Phil was oblivious and saved me from having to answer any there and there.

“What is it with girlfriends having to share their guy's desserts? I mean we're not so badly off that we can't afford to buy one for each of us.”

Sharon glanced over at me and smiled as she realised something of what I'd been saying.

“it's a mixture of things Phil. Part of it is that we don't want a whole dessert; just a taste. Anything more would be a waste or otherwise go on the waist. Most of it though is it's a kind of reassurance thing. You know, if you still love me you'll allow me to eat from your plate sort of thing? It's kind of my way of saying I want to be your girl, and I want to know if you want me to be.”

There was a short pause then, as one, both Phil and Mike pushed their bowls across the table to us. There were nervous laughs, coy smiles, token mouthfuls taken and savoured, hands touched tenderly. It was a silly moment, but one that did much to cement the bonds between us.

-oOo-
Sharon drove home with Phil leaving me curled up on the front seat looking across at Mike in my usual way. He didn't ask, though I could see from his eyes he very much wanted to and I loved him all the more for his restraint.

“This isn't easy to tell.”

“I know. You don't have to.”

“Yes I do.”

It took me a while longer to find the courage to start, but when I did, I couldn't stop. Not until I'd finished. Mike heard me out in silence then remained silent for the rest of the journey home, his face stony and unreadable. I was spent and could do little more than sit next to him and watch him. His lack of response frightened me, but he had been patient with me; it was only right I should give him time to process things.

We arrived back at my flat around four thirty. Phil's car was nowhere in view and I suspect he and Sharon had headed back to his place. With the afternoon so far gone, I was also expecting Mike to head off to the restaurant straight away, but he surprised me by getting out of the car and walking round to open my door. He followed me into the flat and, with the door closed behind us, I turned to place a hand on his chest and looked up uncertainly into his eyes.

There were tears there. After all the times I'd seen Mike upset over the past months, this was the first time I'd seen him cry. He grabbed me in a bear hug and crushed the wind out of me. It was all I could do to gasp in a few shallow breaths, and I was becoming distinctly light headed before he realised and eased his hold on me, He led me over to the sofa and sat down, pulling me down beside him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came and he shook his head helplessly.

I waited.

He took my hands in his and caressed the backs of my palms with his thumbs, all the time looking down, his mouth opening and closing, his breath laboured. I squeezed his hands and he raised red streaked eyes to look into my own. He found his voice.

“Are we ever going to have a normal life?”

I let out a laugh; more single gasp, but enough that he joined in.

“I can't believe I almost lost you again. I mean this explains this morning. Liz, I don't know what to say. There's no way you could have known. I... If I'd had even the slightest inkling of who was in the car with me, of what she... he was planning... I'm so sorry.”

I reclaimed one of my hands and cupped his cheek.

“Mike don't. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His eyes turned angry.

“I helped that freak escape.”

“No Mike. He fooled a lot of people and you don't get to blame yourself for something that was more my fault than anyone's. What's important is that he didn't get his revenge. He's locked up now and there's no way he can threaten us again.”

“His own mother though!”

“I know. It's horrible. And the thing I feel most guilty about is that whenever I think about her, I just feel glad it's not me.”

“Me too. Does that make us evil?”

“Just human I think.”

“What will you do now?”

“I don't know. I told Doctor Marston I'd go back next Saturday, if only to see Charley. I don't know if I have the courage to face Paul now.

“Besides that's not up to me alone. Mike, all I could think of when he was coming at me was how hard it would be on you if I was changed again. I won't put you through that. If you want me to stay away I will.”

I searched his eyes, my own gaze dancing back and forth between them. I could see the fear in them. He took a deep breath before replying.

“I won't pretend I like the idea of your going back there Liz, I don't. Even if you're only going to see Charley, I hate the idea of you being so close to that creep. But this is your choice and I'll stand by you whatever you decide. One thing though. If you do decide to go back there next Saturday, I want to be there too. You don't face this on your own. Just in case Paul finds you and comes at you, I want to be there.”

I nodded my head and pinched my eyes shut, leaning my forehead on his shoulder. My arms went round his neck and I simply clung on. Like I said before, this man grounded me. I tried to hold back but couldn't, I sobbed out my relief into the crook of his neck. All I needed was his approval, his support, and it was there.

-oOo-
Much later there was a gentle knock on my door.

It had been half past five before I'd managed to persuade Mike that I was alright and that he should go create culinary utopia for his customers. He'd promised to meet me the following morning and accompany me on the viewing of the new building, so I'd see him again before the requirements of work whisked me away from him for a week.

After he left I had drunk three glasses of water straight from the tap in an attempt to rehydrate myself, then run myself a bath, had a long soak and washed my hair. As usual, the longest and most tedious part was the drying and I had just turned the drier off for the umpteenth time, so I could attack a new knot with brush and comb, when I'd heard the knock.

It was pretty much a given that it would be Sharon as the only other person with a key to the front door was the landlord, and he was rarely about on a Sunday night. I opened the door a crack, then wider when my expectations were confirmed. There was a glow in her eyes and a barely suppressed grin. I glanced down at her hand.

“You guessed it. He proposed again.”

The squeal was barely restrained as she raised her hand for my inspection. It was the same ring, but it had been absent since the first evening I met her. I wasn't sure what to think. I certainly hadn't expected such a quick turnaround from Phil and I was bothered that he could change so rapidly. I gave Sharon the expected hug and pulled her into the flat begging her to tell me about it.

It seemed they had gone back to Phil's place where they'd had a very frank and open discussion. Phil had told her pretty much what he'd told me, and she'd managed to allay his fears by being just as honest with him. The awkwardness that had been growing between them had simply been a lack of understanding and, having clearly expressed their feelings for each other, Phil had asked her outright if she would consider marrying him.

“I told him all you need to do is ask, and he did.”

The bubble and squeak was back into her voice, and this time I joined her and gave her a less reserved hug, which she returned until she felt my hair.

“Ooh, let's get this dry before you catch pneumonia.”

She hauled me into the bedroom and set to with the hair drier and brush. I was too stunned to resist, but I did yell at her over the whine of the blower.

“I feel like we should be cracking the cork on a bottle of bubbles.”

“Oh, Phil and I already did. I don't feel like any more booze tonight. I'll join you in a hot chocolate once we've done this. Right now let me do this for you. It's a poor way of saying thank-you, but I need to acknowledge the part you had in today.”

So I sat back and relaxed while Sharon brushed my cares away. Paul and Charley and Mrs Bailey receded like a dream and I gave myself to the ordinary pleasures of having a friend look after me. Hot chocolate followed and we talked for a while, comparing wedding plans. It could have lasted a lot longer, but we both had things to do in the morning. The mugs went into the sink and I saw a blissfully floating Sharon across the hall to her flat before retiring to my own bed. Jenny Doll, usually a welcome companion at bedtime, was a poor substitute For Mike. Even so sleep came swiftly and easily.

-oOo-
I woke early and packed. Most of the clothes I would be wearing were going to be provided which meant that, apart from a few comfortable things to wear around the hotel room, all I needed to put in the case were underwear and nightclothes. When it came the latter, I found myself thinking of Mike and picked out something I'd almost forgotten I had.

The laptop went into its own bag and by half past seven my bags were waiting by the door and I was sitting in the kitchen looking over the rim of a coffee cup at the beginning of yet another beautiful spring day. Memories of the bitter cold and damp winter seemed unreal with the sun shining out of a pale blue sky.

The minute hand reached its hourly zenith prompting me to wash up my mug, grab my coat and bags, and let myself out and down to my patiently waiting car.

Eight o'clock and traffic was filling the roads. The journey to the existing shelter was slow but uneventful and I pulled into an empty parking spot outside the main entrance forty minutes later.

Never a good idea to leave things in a soft top car, I took my small travel case and computer into the building reception where I found Aaron and my Mike chatting with Michael ad Colin.

“HI guys, Aaron, could I leave these behind the counter please? Thanks.

“Ok, the new building is a couple of streets over. About a ten minute walk by my reckoning and we're due to meet the owners there in twenty, so I guess we ought to get going. Michael, any more of your friends tagging along?”

“No, just the two of us. The rest said they'd wait to see how we got on.”

“Fine. Aaron?”

He shook his head so, with a shrug and a smile, I spun on my heels and led the way out. They'd all made an effort which heartened me no end. I mean not exactly the height of fashion like myself, but given the available clothing from the charity drops, they'd done pretty well. No jeans, no tee-shirts.

They caught up easily, even Colin who was only two inches taller than me, and we fell into an easy stride. We chatted about how things were going at the centre and I was gratified to find out that there hadn't been any repetition of the previous week's unpleasantness. There was still some tension and, for the most part, Michael's group kept to the seventh floor as much as they could. I asked about the training programme and Aaron gave me his usual concise update, followed by a far more enthusiastic response from Colin who had started going to hair-dressing sessions. Yeah, cliché I know, but somehow it seemed just right for him.

We found the new building in good time and spent the ten minute wait walking around and inspecting it from the outside. I'd visited the place previously so wasn't as disappointed as the others at the run down condition of the place.

“Come on guys, it's not so bad. It's what's known as 'having potential', and I think by the time we've finished with it, it will realise that potential quite nicely.”

Aaron rubbed his hands over flaking paint with a grimace.

“It's alright for you, you don't do any of the renovation. This is going to take a while.”

“You're right of course, and I'm not going to insult you by pretending it won't be hard work. But look here. You see how the place has two entrances and a stairwell at either end? We'll need to keep access to both from all the building for fire regulations, but if we put a dividing wall through the ground floor and fire doors halfway down the corridors on higher levels we'll have two separate living spaces. What do you think?”

Michael stroked his chin.

“Hmm. It could work. Do we get to choose the colour we paint it?”

“If you’re thinking pinks and purples I may find that a hard sell, but I'm pretty sure the owners will be open to some degree of negotiation.”

And with that the owners arrived. We spent a couple of hours going over and through the place, them asking for assurances and asking us about our plans, me talking thought the idea of splitting the building and the changes we wanted to make, Aaron adding his own thoughts and going a long way towards sealing the deal. It turns out his dad had been an architect and DIY enthusiast, and he'd picked up quite a few nuggets of wisdom before he had left home.

It took two hours but agreement was reached. The owners agreed to draw up the contract and courier it to me for signing during the week. I left them with a copy of my itinerary so they knew where to find me and they were gone leaving us standing back and admiring the newest addition to the fight against homelessness.

“So Michael. Do you prefer sleeping on the right or the left?”

-oOo-
Mike and I found ourselves a quiet little café for lunch where we mostly ate, drank and held hands. There wasn't much to say; we both knew we were going to miss each other, we both didn't want to be separated, we both knew that no amount of wishing and wanting was going to change things. So we took what comfort we could from our remaining time, followed lunch with a slow walk through a small park, and took our leave from one another around two. I had a reception to attend that evening at seven and it was going to take me a couple of hours to get ready. Two and a half hours on the road would only leave me with half an hour to check in and unpack at the hotel.

Mike leaned his forehead on mine and I reached up to kiss him.

“I should be done about midnight. I'll Skype you then.”

“I'll be waiting.”

It was ridiculously hard pulling myself out of his grasp. Come on Liz, pull yourself together. You're going to see him in five days’ time. Five days, argh! It might as well be forever.

“Go on, you'd better get going or you'll be late.”

This is why we need men to be strong. I returned his quiet smile and managed to reach the end of the road without crying. Taking a deep breath I turned towards the north and my next big adventure.

-oOo-
The M1 is never a nice road to travel these days. It's almost always busy and almost always has multiple stretches under repair. The traffic has a tendency to travel too close, which then means that when someone or other has to brake hard to avoid becoming too closely acquainted with the vehicle in front, the unnecessary braking ripples back through the rest of the traffic. Caterpillar motion, constantly stop starting. You try to break the cycle by leaving a larger gap between you and the car ahead, but that just encourages the car behind to come past and squeeze into the gap, usually hauling on his own brakes and sending a fresh ripple back. It's tiring and less than pleasant, so I wasn't in the best of moods when I arrived at the hotel.

Still I tried not to take it out on the innocent receptionist, even when there turned out to be some confusion over my reservation. It took fifteen precious minutes and the input of a manager to unravel the mess. Apparently they had been expecting me the following week, but fortunately they still had vacant rooms and offered to upgrade me for free.

I was shown up to my room where I immediately started a bath running and called through to Karen to let her know I'd arrived and to mention the change in room number. Sympathy over the failings of all things clerical and administrative, then reassurance that the dress would be with me within the hour and the limo and hour after. I climbed into the bath and allowed the hot water and scented oils to soak away the stresses of the journey.

An hour later I was still inevitably drying my hair when there was a knock at the door. I answered in my dressing gown to find one of the hotel valets holding a garment bag. I smiled my thanks and passed over the expected gratuity. Back in my room I opened the garment bag to see what delight the powers that be had for me to wear this evening and found myself recoiling with unexpected revulsion.

Autumn cloud had been my favourite dress, worn all too little but probably loved all the more for that. The last time I'd seen my own, it had been torn and misshapen, hanging from the vengeful form of Pail Bailey. Now the sight of this new one brought back all the bad memories and none of the good. I found myself shaking and barely able to move.

This was stupid. It was just an item of clothing and a very pretty one at that. Was I going to let bad memories stop me from putting it on? Was I going to let Paul have that victory over me? It wasn't something I could easily face alone. It was already an inconvenient time to call Mike, besides he wouldn't really understand. I picked up my mobile and called Sharon.

“Hi sweetie, what's up?”

“Why should anything be up?”

I wasn't quite able to keep the quavering from my voice. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.

“Because you have to leave for your first gig in a couple of weeks in less than an hour and here you are talking to me.”

“They want me to wear Autumn Cloud.”

“But that rally looks good on you Liz, it's a great dress.”

“Yeah, but it's also what Paul was wearing when he attacked me.”

“Oh.”

She understood. She also knew how to deal with it. She didn't tell me I was being, or even that I had every right to be upset. Instead she talked about clothes and all the great things she'd seen me wearing, focusing me on the feel of the fabric and the delight of the design before coming back to the dress hanging over the chair in front of me. It worked. I was able to look at it for what it was and not think about the horrible experience with which I associated it.

I slipped it on and stood in front of the mirror. For a second I saw myself transforming into Paul, tearing the delicate material and snarling out of the mirror, but then I pushed the image away and gave myself a closer look. This was me, fading bruises and all. Paul was locked up half a country away and I had nothing to be afraid of.

I slipped on the tights they'd sent to match the dress and settled down in front of the mirror to do my hair and makeup, all the while telling myself that Paul wasn't here, that he couldn't touch me, the that horror was over.

Ten minutes late and hiding my nervousness well I climbed into the back of the limo.

“Wow, you look great.”

Birmingham's answer to Tarquin wouldn't win any prizes for elocution, but as eye candy he would do. Broad shoulders, short, curly blond hair, blue eyes. Not at all my type, but the cameras would love him. I gave him a smile of thanks as I arranged myself on the seat. I tried to make the ring on my left finger evident without being obvious about it and did my best to be friendly.

“You too. I'm Liz by the way, unless you already know.”

The evening went by well enough. I allowed myself a couple of glasses of champagne to take the edge off my frayed nerves and managed to make a good enough show of myself. There were questions about where I had been for the past week and a few days which I explained, as agreed with Karen, as being time I'd taken out to work on the homeless project. The usual round of talking to well to do women and advising them on which of the Ell-gance line would look best on them. I missed having Charlotte, my fellow catwalk model, around, but she was heading up a series of shows like this one in the Devon and Cornwall. Still the evening went well enough and I was dropped back at the hotel at half past the witching hour.

I ran up to my room and turned on the computer. The room upgrade included free Wi-Fi access to the Internet and, after a short while fumbling through some of the documentation I'd been given on arrival, I found the password and logged on. Cursing the slowness of all things computer, I fired up Skype and tapped manicured nails on the desk impatiently as it loaded up and connected. Double click the one entry in my contacts list and...

“Hello?”

Mike's face appeared on the screen and suddenly everything was alright again.

We chatted for half an hour, sharing the little details of our lives with each other. Mike was sympathetic about the thing with the dress, but as I'd guessed, he didn't really understand. In the end we ran out of things to say and started yawning at each other, which quickly degenerated into laughter and an agreement to do the same the next day.

The bed was soft and luxurious. I wrapped my arms tight around one of the pillows and imagined it was Mike. Sleep came easily.

-oOo-
The next morning I was up early. Eight thirty there was another knock at the door and a valet with another garment bag. Something smart but less dressy as I would be breakfasting with a group of business women. Again I was representing the Elle-gance line and promoting the sort of clothes I thought they'd be interested in. Things went a little bit off track though when they started asking more about my homeless project than what was in the catalogue. Before long I had them asking me what it would take to set up a similar thing in Birmingham. The breakfast went on for longer than planned, but the outcome was worth it. I outlined everything that had gone into setting up the Way Out project and before the end of the meeting, most of them had adopted some role or other in setting up the first of what was to become the first offshoot of the London work. They even agreed to each put in an order for something from the Elle-gance catalogue to help me feel less guilty about using this time for something else.

Lunchtime saw me opening a new Elle-gance store in the centre of the city then, after a quick bite to eat, I was on the road to Manchester and another evening do.

Back at the hotel afterwards I was feeling a lot more relaxed than I had the previous day. There was no desk for the laptop so I dropped it on the bed while it was booting up and took time to strip off the tight, long evening dress I had worn to the reception. This was what I'd wanted to do for Mike the other day, but stress and being later than expected had me rush to turn the computer on. I pulled the baby doll nightie Sharon had given me for my birthday and slipped it on. I slid onto the bed, lying on my front and clicked connect.

“Hi, oh bloody hell. Don't tell my fiancée, but I think I've found a naughty website by mistake.”

I put on my best sultry voice.

“I won't tell if you won't. Would you like me to take something off?”

“More like put something on. I can see quite enough thanks.”

“You are such a stick in the mud sometimes Mike.”

“It's not that. It's just that I have this image of you which I like to maintain, and it is more along the lines of sweet and innocent rather than sexy and seductive.”

“Oh? And how's that working out for you after Saturday morning?”

“Oh, it still works. You know I do understand what Saturday was about.”

“Mmn. Should I go and change into my Victorian 'covers everything' nightie then? I just thought this might make my being away a bit easier.”

“Well since you made the effort I think I can manage. Maybe the rest of the week as well if you can't find anything else to wear.”

And with a giggle to follow, that set the level for the evening's conversation. We ended about one again, but the miles had melted away and I fell into Morpheus' arms with all sorts of dreams about Mike lining up for me.

-oOo-
It's Wednesday so this must be Sheffield. Meetings with various women's groups in Manchester during the morning and over lunch as before, including one or two interested in the homeless work and with a mind to set up something here, as long as I headed it up. It made me a bit late leaving, but since Sheffield was that close it didn't matter; I still made it with time to spare.

The rest of the week saw similar things happening in Sheffield, Leeds and Nottingham. I had planned to get off early from the Midlands on Saturday morning, but some of the women I'd met Friday night had asked if I would give them some time the next morning, so it was nearly ten o'clock before I was on the road.

I let Mike and the Doctor Marston know about the day and set off. As usual with Elle-gance affairs, I was allowed to keep the dresses I wore, so the seat next to me was overloaded with garment bags. I'd decided to wear Autumn Cloud again as part of self therapy; that and it would be showing Paul I refused to be intimidated by him.

The Journey from Nottingham was easy enough. A52, A1, M11, M25; all easy roads. The sun was shining again in a continuation of this very uncharacteristic British springtime, but it was just a little too chilly still to want the top down. I kept myself occupied by planning out strategies for the new branches of Way Out that now seemed to be starting up. It surprised me how much the words I had spoken on the TV and the actions I had taken, along with their reporting in the national press, had galvanised people around the country. Most were not yet ready to launch out on their own, but with the success of Way Out in London leading the way, they were more than happy to climb aboard and become part of the solution.

Anticipation grew as the last miles disappeared, and I was fidgeting in my seat as I drew into the long driveway. Mike was waiting out front and I could barely contain myself enough to turn the engine off before I was out the door and into his arms, taking in deep lungfuls of his scent.

“Next week let me take one of your shirts with me?”

“Whatever for?”

“Your smell. I've missed your smell.”

The reunion lasted some time, but eventually I pulled myself away. There were other people waiting besides Mike and we had the whole rest of the weekend together. Actually not quite true. He would have to leave in a couple of hours to open up the restaurant, so if he wanted to be present when I confronted Paul we'd have to do it soon. I locked up the car and dragged him in to the reception area where I asked for Doctor Marston.

-oOo-
The doctor came to greet us and apologised that he was busy.

“Other patients to see you know. Your idea last week. Not been able to try it. Paul's been off the charts rage-wise. Turned more desperate as the week past. Calmer in some ways today so have arranged something in half an hour. Knew you'd want to be here so waited. Mrs Bailey's in the garden. You should say hello. Find you later.”

With that he was off at his usual brisk stride. I wrapped my arm around Mike's elbow and led him out into the garden.

We found Mrs Bailey sitting in the dappled shade and shelter of a flowering cherry, the blossom filling enough of the branches to keep most of the gentle breeze and bright sun at bay. She was wearing slacks, shirt and cardigan in fairly subdued colours and she seemed at peace with a book on her lap.

“Hello Mrs Bailey.”

She looked up and smiled in recognition.

“Hello dear. It's Elizabeth isn't it? Doctor Marston told me everything you tried to do for Paul and I am grateful. Oh dear.”

Much of the colour drained from her face.

“Isn't that the dress Paul was wearing last week?”

“Oh I'm so sorry Mrs Bailey, I didn't think. It's part of the collection I model and when I was asked to wear it earlier this week I had an attack of the horrors and almost couldn't put in on. Wearing it today is sort of a self-therapy thing.”

“I understand dear. It suits you very well. Just as long as you don't plan on turning into a scary man.”

I laughed and settled onto the bench beside her.

“Nothing further from my mind Mrs B. Tell me do you go by Geoff still or...”

Mike was fidgeting.

“I'm going to leave you two together. I think I saw Charley over by the pond. I may go and talk football or cars or some such.”

“Oh, I'm doing it all wrong today. Mrs Bailey, this is my fiancé, Mike. Mike, Paul's mum.”

“Pleased to meet you Mr's Bailey, but I really will leave you to talk. This is private matter and I don't have a part in it.”

He gave me a peck on the cheek and disappeared down the path.

“Fiancé eh? You have adapted well.”

“For me this is the best thing that could have happened. I've always felt there's been more girl than guy inside me, so to have been transformed like this, while it may have been an unexpected shock in the beginning, is really quite the most wonderful thing. I mean I'm not only a girl, but I'm a pretty one and ten years younger than I was.

“I'm only sorry it can't be the same for Paul or you, or any of the others who were affected.”

“Others?”

“There were twelve of us in all, including Paul. I was the last; the girl who was causing the changes found peace after me. Most of the men changed ended up jumping in the river or overdosing on drugs, but three of us survived. Paul and the one Mike's gone to see, Charley, and me.”

“And you tried to help the other two?”

“Charley's hopelessly male. I mean can you imagine someone with my face and body trying to pass as a man? He tries, and through force of will he even manages to pull it off a lot of the time. I've been talking through his options with him, and he's all but decided to try and transition. You know, hormones, surgery, that kind of thing? He's a tough guy and I think he'll make it through, even though it's going to be rough on him.

“Paul was different though. He actually has something I thought of as a feminine side to him, and I thought I might be able to persuade him to try living on this side of the fence. You know, if you can let go of the male ego, it's actually a nice place to be, being a girl.”

She smiled, but it faded.

“I'm afraid Paul's always been a bit spoiled. He's an only child and I think parents tend to overcompensate for that. Certainly Harry and I did.

“Harry passed away three years ago, so I suppose it doesn't make much difference if I spend the rest of my life as a woman or a man. It's nice to have a bit more strength, but I find I miss the pretty things.”

She fiddled with the brown buttons on her brown cardigan. I placed a hand on hers.

“You do seem a lot calmer and more content than you did last week.”

“Well so much has changed. I get to see my Paul again, even if he hasn't been in a fit state to talk this week, and I met a delightful gentleman earlier this week. He seemed to know all about me, called me Evelyn and everything. He asked me what it was I wanted most of all. I told him I wanted my Paul to be well again. I mean I know after what he did to you it must be hard to see any good in him, but he is my son and I love him. He's everything I have left in this world now.”

I squeezed her hand. I understood, but I didn't trust myself to speak just then.

“He said that I should be patient and have faith. You know that's not such a hard thing to do?”

“Doctor Marston's hoping to have a session with Paul this afternoon.”

“I know. I'm going to be there. He mentioned you and Mike and this Charley person, and now that you've explained things it all makes more sense.”

We chatted on about less consequential things until Doctor Marston came marching through the garden. He had passed Mike and Charley and had them in tow.

“About ready now if you're up to it?”

We stood and followed. This was going to be interesting.

-oOo-
Paul was lying on a bed much like the one I had been strapped into the previous week. Padded leather restraints held his wrists and ankles as well as forehead, chest, stomach and legs. It may have seemed over the top, but it did a lot to calm my own fears. He looked over at us, his eyes bloodshot and twitching in agitation. Doctor Marston went forward to give him a quick look over, the rest of us hanging back out of sight.

“What time is it?”

“One thirty. Does that matter?”

“Six hours. Six hours.”

He wriggled as much as he could against the restraints, making no progress whatsoever.

“Why six hours? What's so special about six hours.”

“The power I've been given. I have a week between each transformation. I kissed my mother at seven thirty last Saturday which means within the next six hours I need to transform someone else or...”

Doctor Marston put down the chart and folded his arms.

“Or what Paul?”

Paul tried to turn away, but the strap across his forehead wouldn't even allow him that much freedom.

“Or what Paul?”

“Or my soul is forfeit. Something like that. You've got to let me kiss someone, anyone.”

The doctor waved for Charley to step forward and into Paul's field of view.

Paul looked him up and down, then looked away.

“It won't work.”

“Sorry?”

Paul raised his voice.

“It won't work. The nature of the power is only to change people against their will. He wants to be a guy. He's already been transformed from being a guy.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he went over the ground rules alright? I know it won't work on you in the same way that I know my life ends at half past seven tonight if you don't let me out of this place. Come on this is a nut house. You must have some women who are so far gone they wouldn't notice if they had a dick, why can't you let me kiss one of those?”

A look of pained disappointment settled on Mrs Bailey's face. I couldn't stay out of it any longer. I stepped forward beside Charley who was trying his best not to look disappointed.

“I never thought you were that selfish Paul. Besides would it actually work? I mean if you can't change people unless it's against their will, what happens if you try to change someone who's so far gone they have no will?”

He started hyperventilating, looking more desperate and helpless with each passing moment. I didn't have much pity for him, but I hated to see anyone suffer.

“What if he's lying Paul? I mean you know he lies, why not here? When I was changed it wasn't against my will.”

“It wasn't something you overtly wanted though was it.”

“Why not at least try?”

Desperation warred with resignation; the more impassioned feeling one. I nudged Charley the moment I saw the way Paul's thinking was going.

“Go on. Give it a try.”

“You want me to kiss a guy?”

“If I were in your position, I would. Go on, pretend to be a girl just for a moment.”

He looked me up and down uncertainly then stepped forward. The kiss was short and unimpressive. No change occurred.

“I told you it wouldn't work.”

“Yes but you were as prepared as the rest of us to try it. I'm sorry Charley, it was worth a shot.”

He nodded and turned back out of the room. I made to follow. It was too much for Paul.

“What so that's it? Just her and nothing more? You can't seriously tell me that you're going to keep me here and watch me lose my soul when the time wraps around.”

“I'm not sure what else we can do Paul. I mean this was your own decision, and it would more wrong for us to help you than to hinder you. You transform someone this week and you'll have to do it again the next and the next. It has to stop somewhere Paul.”

“You think it'll stop here? The power isn't mine but his. Once he takes me, he'll just go off in search of another desperate idiot to give it to. This is never going to stop.”

There was truth to those words. Amidst all the deceit and lies, that one horrifying truth stood out. Perhaps Mary had started this, perhaps there had been someone before her, but whatever its origins, we'd seen the power move from one person to another, even cross the gender boundary. There would be more of these, and there was nothing I could do about it. I looked at Evelyn and Charley, struggling with lives twisted out of shape from what they had been. There had to be something.

The world around me slowed and stopped. Everyone in the room with me was still.

“If there were a way, would you take it?”

I spun at the voice. I recognised it, but this time it was less friendly, more serious. The old man with the wild hair and beard stared at me through eyes as deep as eternity. I looked at Mike. He was as unmoving as the rest. The clock on the wall was still, the second hand suspended, time stopped. I looked back at the old man, the question burning in my own mind.

“Stopping time's not that hard when you know the trick. They won't realise anything's happened. This is just for you and me. I'll ask again, if there were a way to stop this once and for all, would you take it?”

The eyes were boring into me and I knew there was more to it than just saying yes or no.

“What would be the consequences?”

“We could undo a lot of what's been done and it would never occur again.”

“No, I mean what would be the price?”

It would be redundant to say that time stood still, but it seemed to do so even more. There was pain in his eyes and his voice as he responded.

“You would have to kiss Paul.”

I don't know how I remained standing. It was the worst of all fears overcoming me at the same time. It was vertigo, it was falling, it was fading away, it was shattering into a million pieces.

“You mean...”

He nodded. Gravely. Everything my life had become. The love I had found, the friends I had made, the sheer delight in being this new me. That was the price. I would go back to being Kenand no longer have the things that had become so precious to me.

“What about Way Out?”

“That has enough impetus to keep alive. They'll wonder what happened to their founder and they'll miss you, but the good that's already coming of it will not be wasted.”

“And Mike?”

“Mike is a human being and will make his own decisions. He will find happiness.”

“And this is the only way?”

“This is the only way. The choice is yours alone.”

I could feel hot tears welling up inside me. There was no choice, not really. I mean what price my happiness when compared to the misery of countless others? If I was going to do this it had to be before I had a chance to fully think it through. I nodded once and felt time spooling up around me. Movement returned and I looked one last desperate time into the eyes of the man I had grown to love. He saw the pain in my own and his expression changed from confusion to terror as he saw my intent.

I turned to Paul and leaned over him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mike begin to move. In the dim recesses of my mind I heard his voice roaring out in protest, but muffled as though from a great distance. All I was aware of, all that filled my mind, was Paul's curious expression and his question, so much louder, so much closer than it should have been.

“What are you doing?”

I swallowed, reaching for courage I was not certain I had.

“Giving you what you tried to take from me.”

My lips brushed his ever so lightly, ever so briefly, but enough. I felt the power enter me again, felt the familiar dizzy sensation, felt myself growing, straining the fabric of my clothes. The comforting weight of my hair receded. Delicate nylon stretched and tore, the straps of my sandals snapped and along with them the last of my strength. I sagged to my knees, Ken's knees. Lifted my hands to my face, Ken's hands, Ken's face. I opened my mouth to cry out, but no sound would come. Inside something broke and what poured out to spread through every fibre of my being was a most profound and utter sense of loss that went beyond imagining.