CHAPTER 96
I almost forgave her for that dreadful pun, but it was an indication of the truth.

We were almost self-selecting, from an outsider’s viewpoint. We had resigned from their club, handing our members back. Mine was yet to leave, of course, but that was irrelevant. So many of the questions we both got asked as we stepped aside were variations on “Why do you want to do this?”

What choice is there in such a thing? It isn’t a case of ‘I want’ or ‘I wish’ but of ‘I am’, a simple reality. It wasn’t just that which bound us together, of course, there was so much more that we had discovered about each other, but in the end it was that shared experience that shone through. Sarah had never really been forced to live as a man, and Alice was so much older that there were regular little moments of disconnection. I could see why Sally had made so damned sure that we met, and once more I gave thanks for the luck that now seemed to follow me around.

My weight was still going down slowly, and my riding fitness was getting back to somewhere near my touring best. Life was so good I sometimes had to cry.

The following weekend, the two boys were away yet again, on some 600 or other involving “scenery”, as Geoff called hilly terrain, and probably steak slices and bananas eaten in bus shelters at 3am, and Kirsty’s boy was on early turn to my late shift after a day off, so we arranged to have an evening and morning together so she would have someone to wake up to after he slipped out with the dawn. I rode over to theirs, and Den made space in the garage for my bike before we settled down to my first naughty treat of the day, a cream tea with some real Cornish clotted heart attack that Stewie had brought back from Plymouth for me.

Later, we had curry, and as the couple lay replete on the sofa, the air heavy with the smell of the food, I thought back on Kirsty’s fears about her reputation. Here was a man who had arrived from nowhere, someone whose opinion of her had not had time to form in the canteen’s corrosive atmosphere, a man who had made his own choices before the gossip had reached him. Kirsty was starting to show a little now, and she was blooming as only an expectant mother can, past the sickness and into the anticipation. As Den looked at her, the weariness that had crept into his face over the past months seemed to slip away. There was no doubt he would make a far better father than I had enjoyed. This was someone deeply in love, matched only by his wife. I was so lost in watching them watch each other I missed when they spoke to me.

“Earth to Annie…”

“Uh? Sorry, just off on one for a bit. Thinking about what I intend to dress your beloved in next year”

“How, I thought the Matron picked her own stuff?”

“Got to match the Maids, aye? And there is no way whatsoever my little soup dragon here is going to be allowed to outshine me on my own day, Den!”

Kirsty was giggling, which did interesting things to her chest, things that Den couldn’t and didn’t miss, and I suspected that later that evening they would be trying for their second before the arrival of their first. Kirsty gave his arm a squeeze.

“So, who do I get to boss around then, Annie?”

“Oh, shit, there are just so many I would hate to leave out. I mean, let’s see: Steph, Ginny, Kate, Sal, Polly, Sarah, shit, I could go on and on!”

“Shan? Kelly? Merry? Vanny? Want me to go on if you won’t?”

“Ah, that’s easier. I exclude everyone who is in my family, otherwise there’ll be nobody on my side of the church. That stops the bridesmaid argument for them. They will also be singing, so that’s another excuse. So, we have Steph, Sally and Polly, oh, and Kelly”

“What about the other girls?”

“Kate and Ginny are excluded by being married to each other, and Jan by way of being the mother of a bridesmaid. And I would like to see Shan as a sort of flower girl, aye? And Dave’s wife can’t confirm yet, depends on how her Mam is back home, aye?”

Den sighed, theatrically. “All this froth and fuss, you women can never do anything simple and sensibly priced. No wonder your young chap is always off on his bike. Anyway, I have had my limit of the wine if I have to be up tomorrow, so I am going to bid you both good night. Darling wife, do you want me ready in the leather or the rubber when you come up?”

“Oh, don’t he say the sweetest things? Just the chains, love, and perhaps the cat o’ nine tails again”

I had sort of expected the by-play, so my wine stayed in my glass, but it was another sign of how right they were for each other. Kirst was fidgety after he went, and it was clear to me where she would rather be.

“Go on up, girl, I know you want to”

“Annie, you’re a guest…”

“Kirst, I’m effectively family, aye? Away you go and love your man. I know the way, and there’s half a bottle of wine here not to waste”

Off she went, with a relieved smile, and I sat and thought my life through. I was what I was, and some time soon I would hopefully be able to make it even more real. Just get that out of the way…and I still wouldn’t be able to follow Kirsty down that road. Nothing I or anyone else could do would allow me to give birth. That was always the rock my little ship of happiness struck, the reminder that I could never be quite what I should. As I drank the last of the wine, I realised that being mildly drunk was making me seriously maudlin. I missed Eric horribly, and the alcohol was no solution. Bed time for big girls.

As I passed their bedroom door, I heard exactly what I had anticipated, the soft moans and deep breathing as they made love as quietly as they could. Standing in the bathroom, I stripped off and gave myself the once over as the toilet flushed to drown out Kirsty’s little gasps. My breasts had made it almost to a decent C-cup, and though I was still chubby I could see a figure of sorts there. All that spoilt it was a shrivelled little…even with the thought and sounds of a couple’s lovemaking only feet away, it was my nipples that were erect, and them alone. My member had left the club.

I washed and did my teeth, slipping on the nighty bought for me by Ginny what seemed like centuries ago, and settled myself down in the spare room. The wine conspired with all the food to send me straight off to sleep, and then…then it was the baby in the car seat, this time with Kirsty’s face, and I woke with a shout that brought Den to my room, already dressed for work.

I woke fully to find myself in his arms, wet through from terror, and he soothed me as he would an infant until I could find the words and the power to use them.

“Thanks, Den, truly. I haven’t had one of them for a while now, thought I’d got over it, aye?”

“It’s OK, Annie love, no need to apologise. Look, if you are sure you are all right?”

“Yes, thanks, I just need a few minutes to tell myself it was a dream, aye?”

“Aye. There’s a pot of tea downstairs, want me to bring you a cup up?”

“No ta, love. You get yourself off, I need to clean up, so I’ll go down for it, aye?”

“OK, Annie. I’ll see you at handover, then”

He hugged me once again, and then was off downstairs. After a wash, I joined him in the kitchen as he had a last bite of toast and headed for his car. The fridge was tucked in a corner, so the glass from the front door missed me when it was blown in by the bomb.