Cathy encounters the red tape brigade...read on!

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad & Mercedes Bonz.
part 81.

The next day was monday and I tried to phone the bank but could only speak with a call centre, who were not prepared to deal with anyone but the account holder. I decided to go and see them, which I should have done in the first place and saved myself half an hour of hair tearing.

I dressed sedately, so it wasn't my David Millar outfit. Actually I wore a denim skirt and jacket that Stella had donated, they were from Oasis, so looked pretty tidy. Under that I wore a plain vee necked tee shirt which hinted that I had a bit of cleavage (but only with the booster pads).

It felt strange looking through my mother's jewellery, and while she didn't have anything very valuable, she had some nice pieces. I hoped she would approve of me wearing them. I chose a matching sapphire and gold necklace and drop earrings and a gold bracelet. I also pinched some of her Chanel No.5. My makeup was simple, a bit of lippy and some mascara with a lttle eyeliner. I didn't need blusher, my cycling had given me enough facial colouring. Pulling on my boots, what would I have done without them, and picking up my bag and keys I set off for central Bristol.

Parking in any large city is a nightmare, Bristol is no exception and it was difficult, but I eventually managed to pop it in a carpark up near the University, near Hotwells Road.

I tottered down the hill to the commercial area and the bank. I thought it better to withdraw some money before I spoke with them, just in case they got funny. I took out a couple of hundred and carefully stashed it in my purse.

Inside the bank, I felt quite nervous as I walked up to the enquiry desk. "Can I help you Miss?" asked a nice young woman behind it.

"I hope so. My father has an account here and he has a slight problem. He has had a stroke and is in Southmead Hospital, he's asked me to look after his affairs for the moment."

"And you are?"

"His daughter," I said thinking what else would I be if he was my father?

"Yes, I know that, what's your name?"

"Yes." I suddenly thought I've been here before. "Watts, Cathy Watts, my dad is Derek Watts."

"You'll need to talk with one of the under-managers, there are certain protocols we need to follow to protect your father's account, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course." I was expecting this and was not disappointed.

I waited strolling round looking at all the free leaflets. It's amazing what banks can do these days, insurance, legal services, over draughts, mortgages and so on. It's nearly as comprehensive as Tesco and I could have got a sandwich there while I waited.

I had pretty well exhausted my interest in the leaflets when some young bloke came out to me. "Miss Watts?"

As I was bent over looking at the lowest level, I jumped up and nearly knocked myself out on the display, "Ouch!" I said rubbing my head, not sure whether to laugh or cry, or even crawl away with embarrassment.

"Oh dear, I hope you haven't hurt yourself?" The voice came from some distance away. I looked up and realised he must have been about six foot six. He was tall, taller than Simon and he's quite tall.

"Would you like to come into the office?" he asked having ascertained that I wasn't mortally wounded, simply terminally embarrassed. I noticed he was wearing a wedding ring, pity he was very good looking. Goodness, I'm turning into such a tart!

He went through the process and we agreed it would cut the red tape if they sent someone from the bank to see my dad and then I'd come in and sign for power of attorney. Seemed straightforward enough, until...

"According to our records, your parents have only one child."

The pit of my stomach had Hamilton rev up and shoot off in his MacLaren.I knew what was coming, but decided to play stupid, maybe he wasn't so cute. "Yes that's right, me."

"I'm afraid not Miss Watts, it says here a son named Charles."

"Ah, not any more I'm afraid."

"Why has something happened to him?"

"Sort of," I said biting my lip and blushing somewhat.

"What happened to him?"

"The good fairy visited and turned him into me." I thought I'd play it for laughs, it was a mistake, it usually is.

"Are you trying to tell me you are Charles Watts?" he looked horrified.

"Was, I think is the operative word, no pun intended." I groaned at my own joke, silently of course. His face was a picture and after making some excuse he left the room. I half expected several more staff to have to call in to view the freak. I then realised it was probably all being recorded on CCTV. Oh well, I hadn't done anything illegal or immoral.

He came back with an older woman. "Hello Miss Watts, we have a slight difficulty due to your change of status, but I'm sure we can sort it." She gave a smile but it was very superficial and only involved her mouth, her eyes said more, 'why did you have to drag me away from what I was doing to deal with this ditz?'

"Have you dealt with this sort of thing before?"

"The attorney or gender change?"

"The gender change," I smiled at her.

"Oh yes, that's nothing new these days and with the new legal status possible, it's relatively straightforward. Do you have proof of identity?"

"Only my student union card and library pass." I pulled them out of my purse.

"You don't have a legal change of name, statutory declaration, that sort of thing?"

"No, not yet, it hasn't been necessary until now. The university usually accepts my body as proof of my existence." I smiled again.

"I'm sure it does Miss Watts, but they only give out degrees, we have responsibility for your money."

"Not mine, I bank with with someone else." I smiled cattily at her and she returned it with a look of, 'We have a right one here!'

"That's your prerogative," she said looking at my ID card. "Nice photo, usually they look awful. Department of Zoology, what are you studying?"

"Dormice."

"You weren't involved with this thing in the news recently, about dormice?"

"No thank goodness, I wish they had contacted me, I think I could have helped."

"So you're an expert on dormice?"

"My prof seems to think so, he's invited me to spend government money watching them, along with some colleagues from Bristol. I'm going to lead the dormouse element."

"Sounds more interesting than banking," she said whistfully.

"Not when it's pissing down at three in the morning." I could be so direct.

"You're out at that time of night?"

"Yes, they're largely nocturnal critters."

"I hope you have someone with you young lady."

"Not usually, I think I'm safer out in the woods than I would be in town. Remember Portsmouth is a naval base, hello sailor and all that!"

"Yes quite!"

"Well, I think if you are there when we speak with your father, he can give us proof of your identity in lieu of formal paperwork. I would urge you to sort that out, it may make things easier for you later. I take it you've not had surgery yet?"

"No, on the list," I offered ambiguously, I didn't allude to which list.

"Well good luck, I think you made the right decision and I'd never have known without your disclosure. Mr Martin, here, will be seeing your father tomorrow afternoon at half past two, could you attend?"

"I think so. I'm only clearing out the stuff my mother left."

"She left?"

"She had to, her body would have smelled after a while, so they burned it."

"Your mother is dead?"

"Yes, didn't you know?" Obviously they didn't.

"Does she have an account here?"

"I don't know."

"We'll make some enquiries, if she did we'll need to have a death certificate to close the account. We'll freeze it immediately."

"Okay, I'll look at home and see if he sorted it out, I doubt it, he was pretty shell shocked when Jesus wanted her for a sunbeam."

"Shouldn't you be more respectful of your mother?"

"Probably. Yes I'm sorry, I should be but we weren't very close for a few years."

"I see. Well goodbye Miss Watts, Mr Martin will meet you and your father at Southmead Hospital tomorrow at two thirty."

"Okay, fine, I'll be there."

I left feeling that my flippancy had been misplaced, she was quite right, I should respect my mother. I did, it was the bank's formalness that pissed me off. I wandered around the shops for a bit, got a copy of Cycling Weekly and went to Tesco to get some food and fuel.